


Left Behind

by OneJumpFromEden



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Amnesia, Coma, Depression, F/F, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Character Death, hinted ptsd, idk if thats anyone's trigger but I ain't taking any chances, is fusion what we're calling AU's now?, its not LOT or Pacific Rim canon compliant, sara and oliver are VERY GOOD FRIENDS, somewhat non-chronological storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 18:31:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneJumpFromEden/pseuds/OneJumpFromEden
Summary: “The world needs you, Sara.”“I’m not a hero, Rip, not anymore.”“But you are a legend.”orYou can't run from the past anymore than you can run from a Kaiju. But with a Jaeger and some good friends, maybe you can fight it.





	Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone hasn't seen Pacific Rim: Monsters (Kaiju) from another world start emerging from an inter dimensional rift called The Breach in the Pacific ocean and attacking cities. Humanity responds by building giant robots (Jaegers) that must be piloted by two people as they are neurally linked to the machine, and the strain would be too much for one person alone. This link process is called The Drift, and it connects the minds of the two pilots completely, including their memories.
> 
> Some ground rules: the Pacific Rim timeline has been stretched. Like a lot. Kaiju in the film emerge over a period of about 12 years, and start increasing in frequency. For this fic, I'm looking at 15+, but Kaiju emerge at a pretty consistent rate over time, not increasing. Also I'm ignoring Uprising because...it was a bad sequel. So anything mentioned in that is NOT going to effect this.

***  
_Star City, 2023_

It’s after her fifth consecutive night waking up screaming that her father suggests it.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want sweetheart.”

“But.”

“But...it would mean a lot to your mom if you just...tried it. Even just once.”

“Right.”

“We’re both just so worried about you.”

A sigh.

“One session. If I hate it, or they try to make me talk about- I’m done.”

***

Group therapy. 

Week one of...remains to be seen.

“We have a newcomer today. Would you like to introduce yourself?”

“Not really, no.”

“That’s okay. Welcome to our veterans group. You don’t have to say anything, I know how hard it can be. But we’re all here to listen when you’re ready to share.”

How would they know.

None of them were Jaeger pilots.

None of them knew what it felt like to literally feel half of yourself being torn away-

She feels the panic rising in her chest.

Ringing in her ears still far away.

Deep breaths.

In, out, in, out, in, out, in-  


A hand on her shoulder, sudden, makes her jump.

Almost punches the owner of the hand. Remembers this is supposed to be a “safe space”.

It’s the therapist.

“Do you need to go out and get some air?”

No, no, no, no, no.

She can’t move. If she moves the room will too. If she moves she’ll lost track of her breathing.

Hand hurts.

How tight had she been squeezing her fist? The knuckles are bone white and trembling.

A flash of yellow catches her eye.

It’s not-

It’s a bird. A canary.

Her hand relaxes.

She’s here to get better.

She promised she’d try.

“No. I think I’m alright.” 

***

Therapy wasn’t awful.

In the end she didn’t say anything

Didn’t talk to anyone.

Pulled out a pen and started doodling on her hand instead.

She’d drawn that canary.

Felt like the right thing to do.

***

She went back the next week.

And the week after that.

And the week after that.

And the week after that.

And the week after that.

And the week after that....

***

“Sara, you...never mind.”

“What is it, dad?”

“You...it’s just, since you started going to the group sessions you look...a little more like your old self.”

She says nothing.

Gives him a small quirk of her lips that passes for a smile and is worth more than a thousand words.

***

It’s a Thursday once she’s been to enough sessions to lose count that he comes.

She hears the wheels of his chair clatter over the bump at the floor of the doorframe.

A young man, possibly around her age, a little older, if she had to guess. Hair still almost regulation-short, the stubble on his jaw darkening his face even further than his expression. A bouquet of some flat, yellow and blue-ish flowers on his lap. There’s a Jaeger program sweatshirt hanging off his sallow frame.

God, is that what she had looked like?

He wheels himself into the circle beside her, as close to the door as possible, as though ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

There’s a nervous energy about him, hands fidgeting constantly. Had he use of his legs, she imagines he’s be bouncing one of them. He’s got one of those old fidget toys pinched in between his thumb and index finger, but tires of it quickly.

Sara knows how he feels, so she rummages through her bag, looking for a particular object she hasn’t had as much a use for lately.

He’s looking away from her, boring a hole into the opposite wall with his eyes, so she taps his forearm lightly. He flinches, and turns to level a glare at her, and then the Rubik’s cube in her outstretched hand.

“Something to keep you busy,” she offers by way of explanation.

He says nothing for a moment. Then, with a gentleness she didn’t expect, takes it from her and begins twisting the faces of the cube.

“Oliver,” he says, eyes not leaving the cube.

“Sara.”

***

She’s comfortable enough with what happened now to talk about it with a few people.

Mom. Dad. Sin.

But that’s about what happened.

She’s only talked about how it feels with Dr. Greene.

And none of them get it.

They’re sympathetic and caring and love her.

But they don’t understand.

Oliver does.

It’s a wordless understanding that passes through them. They each see the other reflected in them.

“Razorback,” he tells her.

“Nautilus.”

“I remember that one. Some Cthulhu-looking mother. Yeah. I remember the mission reports,” he admits, running his fingers across his hair, grown out an inch or two since she’d first met him. He does this when he’s looking for his words, the right ones, and Sara appreciates his effort. It’s hard for him, his thoughts and words are scattered.

“It’s okay,” she assures him. And it is. She knows anything he says will come from a place of sincerity.

“When Razorback trashed Utopia Vortex, my partner...Ava...I blacked out. The mental strain...you’d know all about that I guess.”

“I guess.”

***

Sara doesn’t remember the night Laurel died.

Not the details anyway, not really.

She remembers flashes, feelings. 

Feelings and impressions, like looking through frosted glass, or submerging her head in a crowded pool.

They told her it was because of the burden of solo piloting, even for only a few minutes before the emergency disconnect. Her brain had hemorrhaged. Left arm left permanently weakened by the seizure.

She could still pilot, they said. Switch sides, let her new partner take her old role and she would take Laurel’s.

It felt so, so wrong, like shoes on the opposite feet. 

It didn’t fit. Nobody fit.

Sara would never drift again.

Not with Laurel, not with anyone.

Honorable discharge.

Not that Sara cared, either way.

Her sister was dead.

Because of her.

***

It’s Thursday and Oliver asks her if she’d like to meet Ava.

She expects a graveyard.

She gets a hospital.

For a moment, a flicker of jealousy shoots through her.

His partner is _alive_.

It’s snuffed out as soon as they enter her room.

Her first thought is that even with a sickly pale pallor, Ava Sharpe is beautiful.

Her second is that it’s hard to see this woman as a soldier, surrounded on all sides why whirring, beeping machinery.

But as a Jaeger pilot?

She supposed, in a messed-up sort of way, not much had changed in Ava Sharpe’s life.

But it was a perversion.

A pilot brings a Jaeger to life.

Oliver pulls up beside her with the bouquet of flowers he’d brought. Sara realises with a start they’re the same kind he had the first time they met. He swaps the identical, save for some wilting, bunch in the vase by her bed for the new one.

“They’re her favourite. Bird of Paradise. Never told me why but,” he smiles slightly, “you can’t hide anything from your drift partner. One of the only people I’ve ever met who liked the nine to five grind. Wanted to settle down. With kids. One kid,” he correct himself, “a girl. And at least two cats, one dog. Then she wanted to take them all over the world. In a world gone assways there is no nine to five. Can’t travel a world destroyed by monsters either. The name always reminded her of the adventures she always wanted.”

“You love her?”

“She’s my best friend.”

“Oliver.”

There’s a redness in the corner of his eyes, but he’s smiling through tensed jaw.

“Maybe I would have. If circumstances were different.”

“She could still wake up.”

“Oh she’d better. But that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh no,” he flashes her a genuine grin, teasing, “her secrets aren’t mine to share. Besides, I’m not really the settling-down type.”

Even under red-rimmed eyes, he’s handsome when he smiles.

Sara wonders if circumstances were different for them, perhaps she could have loved him.

***

“Don’t wuss out on me now, sis.”

“I’m not wussing out I’m just.”

“Wussing out?”

Sara gives her a playful shove, smiling as they stare down at the tablet at the recruitment table.

“Look, you heard what the guy said. Most people who apply end up not even piloting. We’ll be fine.”

“Like you’d be happy just with a technician’s job. I know you Sara.”

“Well then you should know I always get my way.”

“I just want to help people. But I’m not quite as gung-ho as you.”

“Laurel, hey, look. Even if we don’t end up working together, we’ll still be sisters. And even if you just end up wiping the floors of a Shatterdome, you’ll still be helping the effort.”

“Glad to see you think so highly of me.”

“Laur, have you _seen_ the amount of floor in a Shatterdome? Anyone who can keep those clean is a goddamn hero.”

***

It’s a bad day for Oliver.

That’s fine, she has those too.

Sometimes you just can’t get out of bed.

She lets him sleep, leaving water by his bed to save him the trouble of pulling up his chair before she ventures out.

It’s Thursday, after all, and Ollie would feel immensely shittier the next day if nobody brought Ava her flowers.

She swaps them with the old ones, the room is quiet, only herself and Ava this time.

The steady rhything of Ava’s breathing apparatus was annoying at first, but soothing now.

 

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

 

Reassuring. There was still a person in there. Hopefully she just needed time.

Sara turns to leave, then stops, wondering if Oliver will even believe she brought the flowers, or if she’s lying to make him feel better.

 

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

 

She goes back, pulls out her phone. He thumb hovers over the shutter.

 

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In……..in.

 

A cough.

Another.

Sara jumps, surprised, and turns to find a pair of dark, clouded blue eyes frowning up at her.

***

Global amnesia.

It’s mild, but comes up often enough.

Sara notices when Ava asks her to go to the vending machine to get her a Snickers, and when Sara returns, she’s forgotten that she’d both asked for a Snickers, and that she was allergic to peanuts.

It’s hardest on Oliver though.

He already had a plethora of his own issues to deal with, without seeing his closest friend sometimes staring at him like she had no idea who he was or how much he meant to her.

So Sara often ended up acting as intermediary between them.

Which was fine by her. It gave her something to do, and she got to know Sara better.

Ava was quick, trading barbs back and forth without missing a beat.

Sara liked her well enough, prickly as she was.

Sara acknowledges she was in a coma for months, but that’s no excuse for the rod jammed up her ass.

She mentions it to Oliver and he gives her one of his rare smiles.

“That’s the Ava I know.”

***

Recall.

The Los Angeles Shatterdome was blown up by a group of cultists who saw the Kaiju as God’s retribution and the beginning of rapture.

Hundreds of lives lost.

Rangers, specialists, technicians.

Not much time to train new staff up, not while the Breach was waiting.

As it was eleven years ago when she first joined, Sara did what she knew was the right thing.

***  
_LA Shatterdome, 2024_

She’s assigned to Ranger training.

It’s for the best, she’s not ready to hop back into the pilot’s seat.

She’s not sure if she’ll ever be.

She’s still uncertain if she’d have even gotten to pilot if not for her drift compatibility with Laurel, but the higher-ups seem to trust her enough to train the fresh meat.

Early training isn’t so bad anyway.

Mostly cardio and building mass.

People are well aware of the strain piloting puts on one’s brain, they’re less aware of the strain on the body. But rigs are not very responsive and require a _lot_ of energy to move. In between forced reps, Sara briefly thought of her body before the accident. 

Skinny as a rake now, what had once been pure muscle has wasted away from years of a sedentary life. She’d been in shape before she even knew she wanted to pilot. Not the first thing from her old life she’d found herself missing.

It’d be something to work towards.

***

Over the following months she’s trained her first group of rookies. Most passed basic training, but it would remain to be seen if they would even get anywhere near the pilot rig of a Jaeger. She was fitter herself and, more to the point, so was Oliver.

He’d answered the recall too, nothing left for him in Star City after Ava moved back to Fresno to live with her father. They both missed her, but often it was too hard for Oliver. The distance was good, let them reconnect slower. Even if Ava sometimes forgot about the trio’s arranged video calls.

Not her fault.

He worked as a mechanic. For someone who’d never even looked inside the hood of a car, he turned out to be pretty good at it. It didn’t require use of his legs either, just decent core and arm strength.

Things weren’t good, but they were okay, and sometimes okay is enough.

***

But okay is not enough for piloting.

Of the sixty-odd Sara had seen through basic training, three made it into the program.

Three wasn’t enough for two Jaegers. 

Sara could have done without the bad news that day.

She hasn’t left her quarters, the message delivered via e-mail.

Oliver comes in to her staring at a photograph.

It’s of her and Laurel the day they first piloted Black Canary together.

He moves the untouched glass of whiskey away from her across the table.

“Shouldn’t drink when you’re sad anyway.”

He places a glass pipe, a lighter, and a brown paper bag on the table in front of her.

He gets to work filling the pipe as she speaks.

“Tomorrow two weeks. Laurel’s birthday.”

He says nothing, just passes the pipe over to her and she takes a puff. 

“They’re...they’re going to ask you to come back.”

“Come back to what?”

“You know what.”

“Surely there’s someone else.”

“There’s a few but...Sara, I saw your mission reports, the vids. You were good. Great. They need people like you.”

“That wasn’t- it was always Laurel she-”

“Forgot her mission and it got her killed.”

What.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

“I said it’s her own damn fault, and everyone knows it.”

She slaps him.

Regrets it immediately.

Too angry to apologize.

He doesn’t say anything.

“My sister was a hero, and the bravest person I’ve ever known.”

“There’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity.”

They lapse back into silence.

“It’s...it’s my fault she died.”

Oliver is running his hand through his hair.

“Sara did...did you read the investigation report? For Nautilus?”

“...no.”

“Do you...you told me you don’t really remember that night. Is that still true?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” he says and reachers for her tablet. He pulls up the documents and places them before her. “I know you blame yourself Sara. But...what happened that night wasn’t your fault. It’s important to remember that. You’re not supposed to hide things from your drift partner.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Just read the files.”

He’s about to leave the room, lets her hold onto the pipe while he grabs the bottle of whiskey form her kitchenette counter as a preemptive measure. Sara asks him:

“How do you know they’re going to ask me back?”

He hesitates.

“I...I can’t tell you yet. You’ll find out soon though. I will say though, it’s important you get some closure from that night before you do.

***

It’s routine at this stage.

Suit up.

Lock in.

Drift.

First each other.

Then Black Canary.

And they’re off.

But something is...weird tonight.

Like when the aerial of a TV is aligned enough to get some muffled sound and scrambled image, but not enough to know what’s going on.

She figures it’ll pass.

Wonders if Laurel feels it too.

If she does she doesn’t say anything.

It’s a category III, nothing they haven’t handled before.

It shouldn’t be.

But for some reason, their movements feels sluggish and awkward tonight, even more so than usual for driving a thousand tonnes of metal.

It’s only milliseconds, but when it already takes milliseconds for the Jaeger to respond, and you’re fighting for your life, those milliseconds add up.

The buzzing, the static.

She reaches out to Laurel through their connection but something is stopping her.

Their connection is unstable.

Something is wrong.

Very wrong.

She should have said something.

“Laurel we can’t handle this right now let’s pull back and call for backup.”

“Wait, I see something. There! A boat.”

“What the fuck is a boat doing out in this storm? With a fucking kaiju coming and everything?”

“I don’t know, we should pick them up, get them to safety.”

“We don’t- we can’t. Look, Laurel, something is wrong, can’t you feel it? We need backup.”

“What if the kaiju gets too close? And the ship-”

“Anyone stupid enough to be out in this isn’t long for this world anyway. And we’re still way out from the Miracle Mile we’ll be fine if we pull back _now!_ ”

“No! Remember why we joined in the first place? To help people, Sara.”

Her fault. Her fault.

She should have said something before deployment.

She needs to stop this. Sara steps left to turn to leave.

But Laurel steps right.

***

_  
_

-Interruption to Neural Handshake caused Rangers Lance, Laurel and Lance, Sara to fall out of sync. Further investigation required.

-Lance, Sara unable to recall events. Convenient if she is hiding something. Likely just head injuries caused by neural overload as a result of solo piloting for three minutes and forty-five seconds.

-Spoke to friends and family of Lance, Laurel. All said if anything was going on, Sara would know. Except one, Thomas Merlyn with whom Laurel was romantically involved. Said he was concerned about Laurel, that he’d found several empty bottles of prescription antidepressants.

Lab results came back...

...traces of…

...above recommended levels of fluoxetine...

Drugs.

Fucking.

Drugs.

***

It wasn’t the drugs that killed Laurel.

It wasn’t the depression.

It wasn’t even the shame really, the shame she could have talked about with Sara.

It was the secrets and lies, festering like a cancer, and only coming to light when it was too late.

But all that really mattered now was…

It wasn’t Sara’s fault.

***

She picks up after the third ring.

“Sara?”

“Hey, Ava.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Sara why did you call if you’re just going to lie to me?”

“I...I just needed someone to talk to.”

“Where’s Oliver?”

“He’s...around. I wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“I don’t...I don’t think I’m ready to say anything yet.”

“That’s okay. I’ll talk about all the incredibly interesting things I did today. At least, the ones I remember.”

So Ava talks.

About her morning routine. How on her jog she ran into an old friend from high school that she’d forgotten she’d apparently had a big fight with senior year and they hadn’t spoken since. That she’d tracked down an old recipe book and made a batch of cookies she’s mostly certain were her childhood favourites, and if they weren’t her favourite then, they sure as Hell are now. She tells Sara how she ended up eating the entire batch while catching up on all the trashy television she’d missed while in her coma.

Those shows were even worse than she remembers.

She thinks.

By the end of it, Sara catches herself smiling fondly to herself.

“Thank you, Ava. Really.”

“Anytime Sara.”

***

Once again, Sara is in the training room, but this time not as an instructor.

Against the opposite wall she recognises some of the recruits she’d trained herself.

They wouldn’t be compatible, she knew, but they deserved a chance all the same.

She wasn’t hopeful of any of them, but she said she’d try. They needed her.

There’s about thirty hopefuls, but within the space of half an hour they’re already down to the last few.

It felt good to have the bo staff back in her hands.

Natural.

Her mind forgets, her body does not.

Because of her skill, it become apparent very quickly when she and her sparring partner are not compatible. 

Hope seems lost.

Thirty-four.

Thirty-four recruits and not a single one matched her.

Even with her weakened arm, none of them had lasted more than twenty seconds.

Surely Sara was not that abrasive?

Though it had taken her own sister to match her. Who’d already tolerated her shit for eighteen years at that point.

Ollie had rolled in to watch partway.

Unfortunate that he would never pilot again, they’d almost certainly be compatible.

He’s frowning the whole time he’s there, Sara doesn’t blame him, the prospects aren’t good.

Doesn’t matter how good a Ranger Sara is or was. Without a partner, she’s as useful as Oliver’s legs.

Marshal Hunter calls it for the day. Says he’ll find some more soon.

Sara and Oliver share a grim look across the room.

***

There’s an incessant ringing interrupting Sara’s nap.

She ignores it, tries to, and for a blessed few seconds the room is quiet. 

Before the ringing starts again.

Muttering out a string of curses, she rolls out of her bunk and goes looking for the source of the noise.

Oliver left his damn phone in her quarters again.

She snatched it up, hits decline without looking to see who it was, and drops the phone back onto the table.

No sooner has it hit the metal surface than it starts up ringing again.

She moans, accepts the call and yanks the phone up to her ear.

“This better be _fucking_ important,” she growls, etiquette be damned. Whoever it was had just ruined the first decent sleep she’d had in days.

“Nice to hear from you too, Lance,” the voice of the woman on the other end is familiar and dry and it doesn’t take Sara even a moment to realise who it is.

“Ava? Oh shit, I didn’t realise it was you.”

“Is- does Oliver not have my number saved?”

“What? Oh, I assume he does I just didn’t look. You kind of interrupted something.”

A beat of dead silence on the other end.

“Oh. I see. I didn’t realise you two had…become so close”

“What do you mean?”

“You know.”

“Ava, I just got woken up from my nap. I assure you that I do not, in fact, “know”.”

“Oh! Interrupted something. Nap. Got it.”

“Ah, you thought we were…”

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

…

“I just...thought I’d forgotten something again.”

Yes. The amnesia.

“How is that, by the way? Getting any better?”

“Yeah, actually, it’s why I called. This new treatment they have me on really seems to be working. At least...on my short term memory. There’s still a lot of blanks in my old memories.”

“Hey that’s still really good! I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah I just...some things I really want back, you know? And I’m not sure if I’ll ever get them again. I don’t remember much about my mother. I know she died. I know she loved me. I know what she looked like but…”

“It’s like she’s a stranger.”

“Right. I don’t _know_ her and it’s frustrating as Hell when I know I used to love her, but I just can’t muster that feeling up anymore. I feel like I’m betraying her memory. Or what little of it I still have.”

“I get that. I still don’t remember much about the night Laurel died. I don’t remember if she had any final words. Anything she wanted me to say or mom and dad, or her...Tommy.”

““Her Tommy?””

“Boyfriend. I think.”

“Ah.”

Silence. 

Not uncomfortable.

Sara’s moved back to her bunk, phone still pressed against her ear.

“I should...I should let you get back to your nap.”

“Don’t even think about it, Sharpe. I’m awake now. We both have to suffer.”

“That what group therapy was like? “Let’s all be sad together”?”

“Something like that,” she’s smiling. Wonders if Ava can hear the weight slowly lifting from her chest through the phone line, “a little more kumbaya. A _lot_ more uncomfortable hugging.”

Ava laughs.

Light as snowfall.

Has Sara ever heard her this weightless before?

“Well, hugging is a little difficult through the phone. I can sing for you though, if you’d like?”

“I’ll pass. I don’t want to put either of us through that.”

“Well, I guess I could come down for that hug.”

“Yeah, okay. My parents aren’t home,” Sara teases. 

Falls silent when there’s no returning quip.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, why not? I’ve been cleared to drive. It’s like, a what? Four hour trip? I want to see you and Ollie again, it’s been a while.”

“Aw, Aves. You missed me.”

“Don’t go getting a fat head. There’s something I need to discuss with Oliver anyway. Which was the point of this call to begin with.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much. S’alright Aves, I’d miss me too.”

A huffed laugh down the line.

“You are just…”

“Amazing? Beautiful? Sexy? The most wonderful person you’ve ever met?”

“Incorrigible.”

“I didn’t hear a “no” to any of those…” she trails off and the line falls silent for so long, she wonders if Ava had hung up and she hadn’t noticed.

“Aves?”

“Just...just tell Oliver I called, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

The line abruptly cuts out.

***

Winding up Ava Sharpe was quickly becoming Sara’s new favourite hobby.

Not that she still had a lot of hobbies.

But if she did, teasing the already tightly-wound woman to the point of being unable to speak beyond a few sputtered expletives would be number one.

Sara hadn’t known what to expect from the woman when she woke up three weeks prior. Sure, she’d heard anecdotes from Oliver, but that was all from the man who had literally been inside her head. Someone’s inner thoughts and feelings weren’t necessarily what they presented to other people.

So Sara was pleased to learn that if Ava Sharpe was anything, she was, contrary to what her name might suggest, completely and unapologetically blunt. If she didn’t like what Sara was doing, she’d be sure to let her know.

Which was refreshing, honestly.

Since Laurel’s death, her parents and Sin, and even Oliver to an extent, all seemed to be treading on eggshells around her It was as though the mere suggestion of Laurel would be enough to send her tumbling back down to the depths of the depressive spiral she’d been doing a pretty good job of pulling herself out of.

Not so with Ava.

Perhaps it was simply because she was unaware, but she didn’t exactly make an effort to change that.

“Lance, get your filthy boots off my coffee table.”

“It just looked so bare. Maybe if you got me a coffee to put on it?”

“ _You’re_ supposed to be looking after _me_ , remember?”

“But I’m the guest!”

“When I told you to make yourself at home, I meant it. Which extends to getting your own damn coffee.”

“Well if I’m making myself at home, I’m putting my feet up.”

The back and forth goes for a while.

It ends with Oliver of all people getting the last word when he arrives and accuses them of arguing like an old married couple.

Neither of them have anything to say to that.

***

Ava arrives to little fanfare through the rarely used visitor’s entrance.

Oliver is busy, so Sara takes it upon herself to meet Ava and show her what’s changed around the LA Shatterdome since she’d last been on-base.

It wasn’t a long tour, so the two headed to Sara’s quarters.

“Same ol’ ‘dome.”

“Some things never change, I guess. Ollie said he’d noticed a few changes since the attack, but I wouldn’t know.”

Sara’d poured them each a glass of the whiskey she’d planned to hold onto for special occasions. She wasn’t sure what special occasions she’d be having on a military base exactly, but it seemed a good a time as any.

Ava takes hers on the rocks and drinks it slow. Alcohol exacerbates her memory problems, and Sara really wishes she’d remembered that beforehand. Instead, she matches pace with Ava, so when the glasses finally empty over their catching up, neither of them comment when Sara puts the whiskey away and gets them each a mug of chamomile tea.

Sara notices Ava tugging at the coloured wool threads she has tied loosely around her wrist. Her nervous tick. Instead of asking if she’s alright, because that’s not the way to get a straight answer from Ava Sharpe about her feelings, she asks instead what she needs to remember to do today.

Ava glances down, as if just noticing what she was doing, then pulls at the yellow string.

“Call my dad. Soon, before he gets worried.”

Blue string, twisted, slight hesitation, but she gets there.

“Meds. Need to remember to take those tonight.”

That’s correct, Sara remembers. She remembers all the strings. Light blue for morning pills, dark blue for evening. Yellow for family. Orange for-

“There’s a…” she glances up at Sara, “favour I need to ask of Ollie.”

“Do you remember what it is? Do you have it written down?”

“Yes and yes. But it’s a secret,” she taps her nose.

That’s it then, what has her so antsy. It’s something to do with Sara.

“A secret? That’s not fair.”

“It’s less of a secret. More of a surprise. I think you’ll like it.”

“Well if it’s you, trussed up on my bed, wearing nothing but that one set of lacy black lingerie with the thigh-high suspenders I know you own, I can tell you already I’ll like it a lot.”

“Okay, one, in your dreams Lance, and two, do I want to know why you know I own that?”

“I didn’t actually but thank you for confirming. You know when my birthday is if you change your mind.” 

“Don’t hold your breath, Lance. You’re a royal pain in my ass, but I’d miss you if you suffocated.”

““Pain in your ass?” You sure that isn’t the stick you got jammed up there?”

“Jammed up where?” Oliver speaks up as he enters the room.

“Sara’s head up her own ass.”

“Nothing new then.”

“Hey! If you’re all gonna insult me in my own quarters, the door is right there.”

“Alright, alright, we get it,” Oliver heads back toward the door and gestures for Ava to follow, “we have business to discuss anyway.”

Olivers exits but Ava lingers at the door. She turns to give Sara a sincere smile.

“I’ll see you later, Lance.”

“Stay out of trouble, Sharpe.”

***

It’s an otherwise unremarkable Monday, the first time Sara gets to see her jaeger.

She and Laurel are lead into the hangar.

She recognises a few of the other jaeger from the news as they pass. Chrono Dancer, Arcadia Vortex, Ruby Riot-

There.

There’s one she doesn’t know.

Sleek.

Black save for some golden accents.

“She’s a little more delicate than other mark-IV’s, but she’s quicker, can execute some downright acrobatic maneuvers.”

Sara’s already in love.

“What’s her name?”

“Black Canary.”

 

***

When Sara receives a summons from Rip to meet the next morning in the training room, she’s not optimistic.

However promising the new recruits had been, not one of them were even remotely compatible.

Regardless, when she arrives early, the room is empty, and she spends her extra time warming up and making sure her left wrist is supported enough.

Her interest is piqued when, upon entering the room, Rip informs her that her partner will arrive soon.

One candidate.

Perhaps there was hope. Rip must have a lot of faith to call a trial for one person.

So Sara only finds herself a little bit surprised when none other than Ava Sharpe strolls into the room, Oliver close on her heels.

“So whose idea was this, Rip?”

“Mine, actually,” Rip admits, “when I saw how close you and Mr.Queen were, I wondered if perhaps you and Miss Sharpe could have a similar connection.”

“Oh really?” Sara turns from him back to Ava, who is largely focused on doing her own warm-up, “This was your big surprise? Gotta say, I think I’d have preferred the lingerie.”

She sees Rip’s incredulous look in the corner of her eye, but he wisely chooses not to say anything.

Ava doesn’t miss a beat, quipping back as she shifts her weight to stretch her other leg.

“All that’d prove is that we’re the wrong kind of compatible to pilot a Jaeger.”

“I don’t know, lotta Rangers end up,” Sara makes a vague gesture with the index and ring fingers of her two hands interlocking in a scissoring motion.

“God, I hope not.”

“Ladies! Enough foreplay,” Oliver cuts them off before Sara can take the conversation to even worse places. He’d grabbed them a bo staff each, and tosses them over before wheeling back to the side of the room next to Rip.

Ava stands up and Sara walks to her spot opposite her, squaring up.

“Alright you two, you know the rules. Four strikes win, and remember, it’s not a fight it’s-”

“A dialogue,” both women cut him off, having heard the speech before.

“Yes well, good sign. Begin!”

They spend a moment sizing each other up. Despite having known each other so long, they’d never had the opportunity to spar with each other before, so neither really knew what to expect.

Sara moves first, but Ava’s not long behind, blocking her first swing.

The impact sends a tremor down Sara’s left arm, and she shifts her right side forward to protect her weaker side.

Ava doesn’t miss a beat, takes advantage of Sara’s less sturdy stance and sweeps the staff under her right leg.

Sara manages to regain her balance before falling, but not on time to block Ava’s next strike.

It stops just a hair breadth from Sara’s nose.

“One-zero,” Rip calls, and the two step back from each other and reset.

“Holding back, Lance?”

“I’m just getting warmed up.”

Despite Sara’s fighting words, it’s Ava that makes the first move this time. Ava knows about her left side, and Sara dives into a roll to the right as she predicts Ava’s attack. When she twists back up, she’s behind Ava enough that the other woman can’t block Sara’s retaliating strike on time.

“One-one.”

Their breathing is audible now, not panting, but slightly laboured. No words are exchanged this time, they simply launch back into it.

It goes back and forth at a steady pace. It’s like a dance. Sara acts, Ava reacts. Ava strikes, Sara predicts. Ava’s win, then Sara’s.

It’s finally three-three. Tensions between the two women are high, but there’s also a sense of assuredness. All the occupants of the room can see where this will end up, but they continue on regardless.

The clash of wood echoes around the training room along with the occasional grunt. They’re getting nowhere fast, settled into their rhythm, Knowing, acting, reacting.

It ends when Sara attempts to change the rhythm by switching her dominant arm, attempting to throw off Ava with the sudden dynamic shift. But as Sara makes a high, somewhat uncoordinated swing at Ava’s right arm, Ava drops her own staff to the left, foregoing her guard to make a low swing toward Sara’s right.

They’re both stopped inches from each other’s unguarded bodies by Rip’s shout of “enough!”

“Get cleaned up you two, then come down to the garage. Got one more surprise for you today Sara.”

They give no acknowledgement, both catching their breath. Sara is standing, just about, but ava lowered herself down on the mat as soon as Rip called it.

Once the two men have left, Sara makes her way over to Ava, lies down next to her.

“Lingerie or no lingerie, this still ended with you on your back, all worn out because of me.”

Ava doesn’t reward her with a verbal reply, but a sharp crack of skin on skin.

“Hey!”

***

When the call initially went out to bring back already trained staff, Sara didn’t even have to think before she refused.

She’d given years, her body, mind, and her sister’s life to the fight against the kaiju.

If the Lance sisters, seven confirmed kaiju kills couldn’t last, what hope did anyone have?

What hope did Sara have drifting with someone who wasn’t Laurel?

But then she got a visit from a face she never thought she’d see again.

“Rip! How’ve you been?”

“It’s Marshal Hunter now. That should give you an idea.”

“I’d heard Bennet died in the attack but I didn’t realise that made you Marshal.”

“Bennet wasn’t the only one I’m afraid. Lost a lot of brave souls. I lead the evacuation of the base, and someone decided that meant I’d be a good fit for Marshal.”

“Can’t say I disagree.”

“Higher-ups weren’t all we lost. Mechanics, researchers, technicians, specialists...the bomb in the mess hall killed over half our active rangers.”

“Rip, I- I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Sara, even if you weren’t one of the best rangers I’ve ever served with, I’d be asking for your help. We need you.”

“You don’t, Rip. Look I’m sure you’ve got hundreds of kids that want the chance to shine, let them be heroes.”

“The world needs _you_ , Sara.”

“I’m not a hero, Rip, not anymore.”

“But you are a legend.”

 

***

As Sara is lead through the hanger of the LA Shatterdome, she has a strange sense of deja vu.

Different jaegers stand sentinel, silent and empty, but it’s familiar.

Even more so when they reach the end of the row.

She gazes up, speechless at the sight that greets her.

Glances at Oliver, who’s smiling back at her gently.

Turns toward Ava, who stopped a few feet behind her.

“The...the last time I saw this it was…”

“At the bottom of the Pacific ocean,” Ava finishes for her.

“Jaegers are expensive as Hell. Costs less for a salvage mission than building from scrap. Of course, I had to pull a few strings to get her rebuilt, rather than stripped for parts, but I think we can all agree it was worth it,” Oliver says.

Sara says nothing again, just steps up to the jaeger.

She’s had a paint job, white now. A few other minor changes.

But under it all, she’s still the same.

White Canary.

***

“I forgot how friggin’ bulky these things are,” Sara grunts, shifting and stretching under the Drivesuit.

“If you stop twitching and get into place, we’ll get this done faster. The faster we do it, the faster we’ll get you out of it,” Oliver’s voice crackles over the comms chastising her as he runs through final checks.

Ava’s already waiting for her in the head of White Canary, but she’s standing between the two rigs.

“Right or left?”

Sara clenches her left fist.

Looks at the right side rig.

Laurel’s side.

No.

She moves toward the left rig without saying anything, but even without words, and without the drift, Ava understands.

“Hey, you two. Get strapped in so we can start your neural handshake. My name is Felicity Smoak and I will be your LOCCENT liaison this evening,” a chipper voice comes over the comms as the two women get into position.

“Initiating neural handshake in 3...2...1…”

Suddenly Sara’s mind is filled with everything.

It was strange.

Linking with Laurel was familiar, comforting. They already shared a lot of memories.

Linking with Ava was overwhelming, but exciting. An entire lifetime of brand new experiences and lessons learned.

Ava knew french.

The scar on her forearm. Falling from a tree.

Sixteenth birthday. A phone call. A car accident. Mother-

Ava’s mother.

She felt it.

The love. The anguish.

Meeting Oliver.

Drifting with Oliver.

The accident.

Waking up to Sara.

Sara.

Annoyance.

Excitement.

Comfort.

Longing?

“Don’t chase the RABIT.”

Right.

Then, silence.

The Drift.

Sara raises her left arm.

Ava raises hers.

***

After they are dismissed, the two walk wordlessly toward Sara’s room.

Once the door closes with a thud behind them, Sara speaks.

“Your memories are all there, Aves.”

“Aves?”

“What?”

“You called me Aves.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No it’s fine it’s just, someone used to call me that, I think.”

“Your ex.”

“What?”

“Natasha. She used to call you that. Sorry, it just slipped out.”

“No it’s...it’s okay.”

“When we were connected...I saw- I felt, something, Ava.”

They’re standing close, so close, without realising it.

Sara could lean forward-

“What did you feel?” Ava speaks after an eternity of silence.

“Everything,” is what she says before leaning up, cupping Ava’s jaw in her hand, and kissing her.

***

_Star City, 2034_

A familiar red SUV pulls up in the driveway, and before Sara can stop her, Laurel is out the door like a rocket, Mick hot on her heels.

No sooner has Ava helped Oliver into his wheelchair, than he’s leapt on by the energetic four year old.

“Uncle Ollie!”

“Hey baby girl! How’ve you been?”

“I lost a tooth! See!” she orders, more than tells him, and Sara’s grinning as she sees Ava struggling with Mick’s collar, trying to stop the enthusiastic pit bull from tackling Oliver too.

Sara decides to come to her rescue, whistling for Mick and telling him to go back inside. When he obeys, as usual, Ava sends her an exasperated look, as usual.  
“Never listens to me. Never. One day, I will figure out how you’re like, the dog whisperer.”

Sara smiles softly as she walks over to Ava. She leans up to give her wife a quick peck, and mumbles into her ear.

“Maybe it’s time to work your child-whisperer talents. Ollie sure looks like he could use them.”

***

Later that night, after Laurel’s worn out from talking Oliver’s ear off and put to bed, the three have a chance to talk around the kitchen table with a good bottle of wine.

“How’s Felicity been?”

“She’s good. We’re uh...we’re good,” he says as he starts patting down his pockets. He pulls it out when he finds it, a small black velvet box, ring inside.

“Felicity’s lucky you get to surprise her with it,” Sara remarks, “I knew the second this one started to even _think_ about it.”

“I did get to surprise you with the honeymoon destination.”

“Only because you forgot until like, the last minute.”

“Good to see marriage hasn’t changed a thing for you two.”

***

Sara lies in bed that night, drifting in and out of consciousness, allowing the deep, even breathing of Ava beside her lull her to sleep.

She turn over to face Ava, who is lying on her side facing her. 

The dim moonlight from the window illuminates her outline, and makes her hair appear ashen gray. It catches the light blue string of wool she has tied around her wrist in preparation for the morning, though it’s been years since Sara allowed her to forget any facet of her daily routine. Old habits die hard.

There is no trace of the small crease that forms between her eyebrows when she struggles to recall something, though perhaps that’s simply because Ava is completely relaxed, asleep.

So she thought.

“Sara…” Ava mumbles. Sara thinks she must be talking in her sleep until, “I can feel you staring at me.”

Sara kisses her forehead, lightly.

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes,” Ava’s eyes crack open, “you should be sleeping. Did you have another nightmare?” She asks, suddenly concerned as she reaches toward Sara’s chest to rest a reassuring hand on her sternum and across her collarbone. Sara places her own hand over Ava’s.

“No, I just…thank you,” she says before leaning in again to kiss Ava tenderly on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, now go to sleep. We’ve an early plane to catch, remember?”

“Right, yeah, Aruba,” Sara turns over to face the wall, and Ava snuggles closer to spoon her.

“Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” Sara mumbles as she finally drifts off to a restful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So the fact that this was a Pacific Rim AU had very little to do with anything, I just love that movie. Had this draft sitting around for ages for a different fandom, so I decided to tweak it for AvaLance. Took me forever and a day to finish this beast, but I'm happy with how it turned out. Let me know what you think.
> 
> I'm going camping for a few days, but then I'll be back to work on that demon fic I started like a week ago before I got distracted by this.
> 
> I edited this as I went along and didn't do a final check sorry~


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